


What to Give a Dreamer

by justdk



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: What were you supposed to give your boyfriend on Valentine’s? Adam ponders this endlessly, in the spare moments squeezed between classes and shifts at work. The original question is further complicated by the boyfriend – Ronan Lynch. What could he possibly give Ronan? What could convey I’m happy we’re together or You’re special to me?





	What to Give a Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous Valentine's Day prompt: Hey it would be amazing to read a SFW fluffy Pynch fic by you for the valentines requests!

_What were you supposed to give your boyfriend on Valentine’s?_ Adam ponders this endlessly, in the spare moments squeezed between classes and shifts at work. The original question is further complicated by the boyfriend – Ronan Lynch. What could he possibly give Ronan? What could convey _I’m happy we’re together_ or _You’re special to me_?

Asking Gansey for help would be cheating. Adam knows that in order for the gift or gesture to be heartfelt it needs to come from him. Only, Adam is still struggling with the concept of _love_. It is a feeling that can’t be put into words that tugs on his heart whenever he sees Ronan or hears his voice. It built slowly within him, his feelings for Ronan, until he couldn’t look away, until he felt like a flower bending to follow the sun. Ronan, creeping into his thoughts and dreams like the phantom shoots of Cabeswater.

It’s good that Adam started thinking about Valentine’s Day weeks ahead of time because the answer he seeks isn’t easily solved. He visits Ronan at the Barns, spends time with him and Opal and Chainsaw, and learns how to care for all of Ronan’s creatures. They have meals together, sometimes Blue and Gansey and Henry come, sometime it’s Declan and Matthew. Adam loves Sundays: Ronan picks him up after mass and takes him home. They spend the day exploring the fields or reading in the library. Ronan shows him old black and white movies, his head pillowed on Adam’s lap while he gestures at the screen and shares some insight about a particular scene or actor. Sometimes they don’t go home at all, opting to drive up into the mountains.

During the week Adam feels cloistered at St. Agnes. He wonders how Ronan can stand being at the Barns alone, how Gansey can bear living at Monmouth without his roommates. When the loneliness feels unbearable he’ll call Ronan and coax him to come over. More often than not Gansey will join them and they’ll sit in the tiny attic apartment, quiet but content to be together. _Three is better_ the psychics had told them once and Adam feels this truth when he has Gansey and Ronan by his side. But it’s equally nice with only Ronan, the two of them negotiating the newness of being together.

Communication isn’t always easy with them. He thinks about this after he finishes his Latin quiz. Ronan is a genius and magical – couldn’t he dream them a new way to stay in touch? Adam smiles fondly into his hand, thinking of Ronan’s nonverbal communication: slammed doors, complicated facial expressions, body posture, touch. Sometimes he wonders if Niall Lynch gave Robobee to the wrong boy, or if it was Niall’s death that stunted Ronan’s ability to verbally express his thoughts and emotions. He immediately feels guilty because Ronan has never failed to convey his honesty and care and love, in some way or another.

Adam tightens a bolt on the old truck he’s just finished putting back together. The radio fuzzes with static and he feels a chill, remembering the night horror’s visit. That was the night Ronan left him dreamt hand lotion, a thoughtful gift, free of obligation. It wasn’t the only gift he brought, though Adam was too blinded to see it; Ronan had brought companionship, had given his time and let Adam see him. Adam slams the hood of the truck closed and wipes his hands on a shop rag. Layers and layers.

_What do you give a dreamer on Valentine’s?_

_Time_.

Adam takes the day off work and drives to the Barns after class. Ronan is waiting for him at the end of the drive, leaning against the porch railing, hands shoved in the pockets of his ripped jeans. His smile is bright and welcoming, piercing Adam like an arrow so sharp that the wound barely stings. Ronan waits on the steps for Adam to join him.

“Parrish.”

“Ronan.”

Adam balances on his tiptoes, one step below Ronan’s, and kisses him, holding onto Ronan’s forearms, fingers curling to cup Ronan’s bony elbows. Ronan mirrors his touch and Adam shivers with happiness.

 _Company_.

“I have come to make you dinner,” Adam announces once they break from their kiss. “It’s going to be romantic.”

“Oh yeah? What’re you making?” Ronan takes his hand and leads him into the house. The old floorboards squeak beneath their feet.

“Pancakes,” Adam answers. “With strawberries and wiped cream.”

“Awesome.” Ronan grins. “I haven’t had homecooked pancakes in… years.”

“Same. This’ll be an adventure.”

Opal careens into the kitchen with Chainsaw flapping after her. Ronan chases them right back out of the house, scolding them with more expletives than Adam thinks are necessary. Adam gets to work, heating the pan while he whisks the mix and water. He finds a measuring cup and uses it to pour the batter into the pan, trying to form heart shapes. He’s fairly successful. While the pancakes cook he washes the strawberries. After that it’s a dance of monitoring and flipping the pancakes and slicing the strawberries. Ronan comes back and puts on a record, something soft and melodic, the language unfamiliar to Adam. He sets the table and putters around; Adam catches him looking whenever he glances over at Ronan and it makes his heart race.

“Time to eat!” Adam announces, setting a plate of vaguely heart-shaped pancakes on the dining table.

“Wow,” Ronan leans over the plate and inhales, “smells awesome. Are those… uh… what are those?”

“Hearts,” Adam mutters. He takes two pancakes and smothers them in whipped cream and strawberries.

“I knew that,” Ronan teases. He digs in and rolls his eyes, making obscene groaning noises. “Oh my god, Adam… these are so good.”

Adam blushes and smacks Ronan’s knee. “Keep your noises to yourself, Lynch. I am trying to eat.”

Ronan kicks him under the table and smiles fiendishly.

_Understanding_

It’s too cold outside to sit on the back porch so they sit in the window seat up in Ronan’s room and look out over the twilight fields, sipping mugs of cider.

“I got you something,” Ronan says, breaking the quiet. He gets up and retrieves a small cardboard box. “It’s not practical,” he explains as Adam peels back the flaps, “but I thought it would go well with your apartment and…”

Adam reaches in and pulls out a glass terrarium. Inside is a wonder: a tiny forest of trees. It’s impossible but very real; condensation beads the inside of the glass.

“Ronan—” Adam’s voice catches and he swallows the tears before they start. “This is perfect.”

They don’t say _Cabeswater_. They don’t need to.

“I have something for you, too,” Adam says, feeling shy. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his brand new phone, his very first smart phone. He slides his finger over the screen and pulls up his page of apps. “This is Skype,” he says, tapping on the app. “You probably have it on your phone. We can use it to video chat with each other. I know you hate your phone—”

Ronan leans in and kisses him, cutting him off. Adam yields to him and the kiss blossoms, Ronan’s palm on his cheek, fingers curled around his deaf ear.

“This is perfect.” Ronan repeats Adam’s words, earnest and loving.

“Oh good,” Adam breathes, his relief sweet and sharp. “I have something else, something for you to keep.” He hands Ronan a paper bag and watches anxiously as Ronan pulls out the worn paperbacks: _All Creatures Great and Small_ , _Blue Highways_ , and _Gerard Manley Hopkins Selected Poetry_. Ronan touches the books with care, reads over their descriptions, his lips pull in a small smile.

“Poetry, Adam? I get the other two but this one…”

“Let me see it,” Adam says and Ronan passes him the book of poems. Adam pages through until he finds the poem he wants. He sits up and pulls one leg under him. Ronan leans back against the wall and drapes his legs over Adam’s thighs. Adam clears his throat and reads:

            _As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;_

_As tumbled over rim in roundy wells_

_Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s_

_Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;_

_Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:_

_Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;_

_Selves—goes its self;_ myself _it speaks and spells,_

 _Crying_ What I do is me: for that I came _._

 

_I say more: the just man justices;_

_Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;_

_Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—_

_Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,_

_Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his_

_To the Father through the features of men’s faces._

Ronan’s eyes are fierce and wounded and for a moment Adam fears he’s overstepped. Ronan takes the book from him and reads over the poem again, his mouth set in a thoughtful line. When he looks up Adam can’t read his expression.

“You don’t believe,” Ronan says, measuring his words.

Adam shakes his head. “But you do and I know it’s important for you. I read about this poet and I thought you would appreciate the words, the struggle. And it’s beautiful, right?”

Ronan reaches out for Adam and Adam goes to him, curling up next to him.

“Yeah,” Ronan murmurs. Almost too quiet to hear he adds, “Not as beautiful as you.”

They cuddle together and Adam shows Ronan more about Skype and admires his miniature forest.

It gets later and later but Adam doesn’t want to leave so when Ronan asks him to stay he does. They fall asleep beneath constellations of glowing plastic stars and have only good dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> The poem quoted is "As kingfishers catch fire" by Gerard Manley Hopkins
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


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